Anatomy of an angel
by Madam Pegasus
Summary: Perhaps I'm closer to Heaven than I thought. If this is well received, I might write more.


Anatomy of an angel

_A church…a place of safety, of sanctuary…anything but.._ Heather bitterly thinks to herself. She steps over a dead closer. Her head hurts, either the sound of the cult chants or the red light of death that followed her from the Borley haunted mansion. She leans against the wall, panting; her heart beating like a hummingbird's. A part of her wonders if she truly is dreaming. Surely none of this can be real, can it? _Strange monsters, an evil cult, a ghost town and a nightmarish world…sounds like a low budget B movie.._

However, she knows that it's real. Her bloody rusty pipe and the blood of her loving father on her vest is a painful reminder. _What the hell is up with this town and this cult? You'd figure that they would be widely heard of, giving their power._ Heather sighs. These thoughts weren't doing any good. That's all they were, they weren't saving her. The pain in her head increases. She feels like she was going to pass out. She can hear it, that chanting…She didn't ask for any of this. She didn't want to be their Holy Mother, she didn't start this war, but she knows she had to end it.

That's the last thing she remembers when she crumples to the floor. The pipe falling close to her, landing with a soft thud.

The sound of footsteps are heard. The figure sees Heather on the floor; she is hoisted up. The pipe is softly kicked to the side as she is taken away to a room off to the side.

The room is small, but livable. It has the basics, a bed, bathroom, desk and a bookshelf or two. Heather is placed on the bed. A few noises are heard, but not from her. It is from all the items in her vest pockets. The figure is intrigued. He begins opening up her pouches, finding health drinks, bullet boxes, maps, first aid kits, ampoles, and other bric a brac. A few things intrigue the stranger though, a porcelain necklace containing a strange red object, a seal and a book from Heather's father. He reads a bit of it, shakes his head a little, but amused and puts the book on the desk. He sets all the different items on the desk in a presentable fashion, the book, the seal and the necklace taking center stage.

He looks down at the sleeping girl. His amusement stays. He always found her amusing. _She is such a little hothead. _Vincent thinks to himself. He touches her hair softly with left hand. Her hair is soft. He expected it to be brittle, as he knew that she dyed her hair that blonde color instead of that dark brownish-black. He likes it though. For some reason, it suits her. His fingers make their way to her face, starting with the forehead. Beads of sweat still plastered on her head from earlier. He leans down and with the tip of his tongue, licks the sweat off her brow.

It tasted like her. A taste of blood, tears and her natural scent. _Perhaps I'm closer than Heaven than I thought._ He's not going to deny that he's fanaticized. Of course with mental fantasy, you can't actually taste. Mental fantasies were fun, but this is what he's truly desired. Though, he wouldn't mind if she was awake, naked and under him moaning his name, but he'll take what he can get.

His knuckles caress her cheeks. His fingertips softly circles them in an appreciative dance, worshipping each pore. He is surprised that none of this has wakened her. He knows what all she's been through. Although he has pity, he's glad that it's her and not him. He doesn't mind watching in the wings, but he doesn't want her dead. _She won't die_. He says arrogantly.

He said it himself, he's on her side. Sure he has ulterior motives, but they both wanted to stop Claudia and see her dead. Once this was over, he hopes to perhaps have a relationship with Heather, or just a tryst, whatever he can get. His fingers touch those lips. He moans inwardly, those soft flower petal, fleshy lips. Lips that, at least his mind were made only for his enjoyment. He could feel her breath on his hands. The hair on his arms stood up. He had to catch his own breath. He wanted to kiss her and claim her as his and his alone. It's tempting to remove those clothes. To feel those perfect orbs in his hand, to touch the nerves of ecstasy hiding under soft and sensitive skin. _That will come soon, my Heather. We will both find paradise._

Satisfied with this moment, at least for now, he gives her a soft peck on the lips and lights a few candles.

Before he leaves, he happens upon her bulletproof vest. "I hope you don't mind.." He says with a small smirk and shuts the door.


End file.
